


In The Depths

by Fanficter123



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Feral Behavior, Feral Children, Feral!Kili, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanficter123/pseuds/Fanficter123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili is the young orphan heir of Durin. Only a babe when his father was killed by goblins and his mother, pregnant with his unborn sibling, was driven mad by grief deep into the bowls of the Blue Mountains, never to be seen again.  But when a nearly fatal fall sends him deeper into the mines than he ever dared to traverse, he finds that perhaps his family is not so lost to him after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Depths

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was completely inspired by Hveðrungr's Children by manic_intent, who's portrayal of a feral Fili and Kili I completely fell in love with and have since been unable to separate myself from. I highly suggest checking out their piece if you havent already, and can be found at archiveofourown.org/works/645189
> 
> Also thanks to Thorinsexensheild for taking my already borderline-obsession with Tolkien's works and encouraging my need to slash the line of Durin. You rock.
> 
> And to all the people who beta'd parts of this, and will beta more in the future. Especially when I was all but ready to scrap it completely.

In the brief moment where time seemed to stop as Fili’s boots slipped and failed to find traction on the rocky surface, only one thought passed through his mind.

_“So this is how I’m going to die.”_

Not in the glory of battle, not as an old man weary with long life, but here in the dark depths of the Blue Mountains, in caverns so deep his body would never be found.  He thinks this thought as he slips, down, down, into an all encompassing blackness as if Aule’s arms were drawing him in.  At some point he hits rock, not the bottom of the cavern, no, for he’s hardly fallen fifteen feet and the crevice stretches for hundreds.  There’s a sickening crack, the wind pressed from his lungs as something breaks (Ribs? Shoulder? Spine?).  There’s no pain, not at first, but that hardly matters because before he can form a proper thought about the whole thing he’s falling again. 

This time when he hits rock he blacks out.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~Much Earlier~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Fili, for the love of Aule, lad, _pay attention_.”

The young dwarf jerked out of his daydreams with the aid of his uncle’s open palm across the back of his head.  “This is no lecture on names and laws,” Thorin continued, “The skill of climbing means life or death for a dwarf in the mines.”

Fili groaned and tugged at the rope looped around his waist, looking at the ten foot drop once more.  “But I won’t be working the mines.  I’m your heir.”  It wasn’t that he was scared.  True, he wasn’t particularly fond of heights, but what kind of dwarf would he be if he was _scared_?

“That may well be true, but a dwarf that doesn’t know how to live in the stone is no dwarf at all,” Thorin tightened the noose around his nephew’s waist and tugged on the slack to assure himself of its hold.  “Now follow my lead.”  Looping his hand around the tail end of his own harness, Thorin pulled his rope tight and lowered himself over the cliff, feet catching footholds on the crag’s surface to keep him grounded.

Fili watched him go, waiting until his uncle was halfway down the face before even thinking of stepping up to the ledge himself.  He pulled his rope tight, leaned out- and froze.  Ice shot through his veins, tensing his muscles and keeping him from moving. The ground below him seemed to stretch out endlessly.

“ _Fili!_ Get on with it!”

The blonde closed his eyes and turned around.  His uncle’s wrath was no light matter, and neither was the horrible embarrassment of his condition.  He held his breath and stepped back over the ledge, his heart skipping a beat in the moment where nothing was keeping him from falling to a very early death; but then the slack in his rope pulled tight and the pads of his shoes caught the cliff surface.

He let out the breath he’d been holding and loosened the iron-tight grip he held on the rope that kept him from falling further.  Carefully he lowered himself down, taking baby steps down the cliff until he caught up with Thorin and dared another look down.  Not as bad, about five feet, just a foot or so more than his own height; yet still the ground swirled and pulsed beneath him as if it was falling further away.  He looked back up.

Thorin must have noticed his nephew’s odd demeanor, “Fairing well, lad?”

Fili nodded, mouth dry. “Aye.”

Unconvinced, Thorin continued, “There is nothing to fear-“

“I’m not afraid,” Fili cut him off.   “Just gettin’ my footing is all.”  To prove his point he took another step down, larger this time.  His foot touched rock and slipped away, and suddenly he was falling.  A scream died in his throat even as his uncle’s hand grabbed his arm, catching him.

“Careful there, too much eagerness can lead to fatal mistakes.”  Though Thorin was smiling there was a seriousness in his tone that Fili couldn’t have missed.  He steadied himself back against the cliff and pulled free from Thorin’s grip. 

“Like my mother?”

Thorin’s smile fell.  “Your mother’s accident was not from eagerness, Fili.”

Fili had been a babe when his father had passed.  A five-year-old far too young and new to the world to remember much of the man who had sired him, and had passed in battle with the goblins.  His mother, Dis, had fallen into grief, left to raise her young son alone and her belly swollen with her second.  She’d retreated deep into the mines, further down than most sensible dwarves dared to go, into caverns that stretched for miles.

She hadn’t returned, her climbing equipment found abandoned.  It had been clear she’d fallen to her death, but no dwarf had been mad enough to venture down after her body.  Thus Fili had been left an orphan to be taken under the wing of his mother’s brother, Thorin.  He remembered none of it, beyond the sudden change as the life he had known ended and he found himself in his uncle’s company rather than his parent’s.

Still, it was a story he’d grown up with, knowing the details of the loss of his parents and his unborn sibling as if he had been at their side at their demises.  And perhaps that was what had kept him out of the mines for so many years, what made his vision blur when he stood at the edge of a cliff and looked down, only to know that he could share in his mother’s fate.

He must have fallen silent in his thoughts for Thorin squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Let’s be done with this and head up to shallow ground.”  Even Fili’s pride couldn’t argue.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Weeks later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The ground in the natural cavern dropped away suddenly.  There was no floor further on, only a deep, dark pit.  Fili took a step back from the ledge and looked over his shoulder at Thorin, who nodded his approval.

This was a piss poor idea.

Not that he could really say that.  The cavern was often passed through by the Blue Mountains’ miners in order to reach the vanes of silver deeper in the mountain.  The ledge was only a forearm’s length between the wall and the cliff, and it stretched further than an arrow’s length before opening into wider ground.  Yet day by day miners passed this way, unafraid of the danger and the sickening drop.

“Well, lead the way, lad.”

_Easier said than done,_ the young heir of Durin thought to himself as he edged out onto the ledge, back pressed firmly against the cliff wall as he tried his best not to look down.  Once again, a feat easier said than done as he found his gaze constantly drawn down, into the pitch black hole right under his toes.  With a company of miners in tow Thorin followed behind, far more assured- curse him.  How his uncle never failed to look so confident and powerful Fili could never understand, but it was a trait he envied deeply.  Were he half the man Thorin was, he wouldn’t be shaking like a babe at the very thought of descending deep into the mines. The earth and stone flowed through his veins, and yet he hadn’t the courage to seek it like his brethren did.

He was nearing the end of what had thus far seemed like a lifelong trek across the crevice –and indeed was beginning to feel the swell of pride for his accomplishment, as little as it would seem in the eyes of others- when his sword, which he had loosely tied around his waist so that it would not press back into the wall as he shimmied across, slipped loose from its makeshift sword belt and slid over the edge.

Caught in the shock of losing it Fili instantly reached out to try and grab the lost weapon, and was saved only by his uncle’s firm grip against his chest pushing him back into the wall.  The sword was a ceremonial thing more than for use, as it had been gifted upon him by Thorin to commend him for his growing skills, and it clanked against the uneven walls before finding rest on a small outcrop thirty feet down.  With a nod Thorin motioned his nephew on and Fili complied without complaint, loathe as he was to leave such a precious possession behind. 

It wasn’t until Thorin and each of the miners had finished their way across the gap that someone spoke, “Well, we’d best put down some anchors and see Mr. Fili’s sword returned.”  The miner that spoke stepped up to the ledge, completely unaffected by the sheer drop, and began to unload his bags.

“No,” Thorin interrupted, “He dropped it, he’ll get it back himself.”

Fili shot an incredulous look at his uncle, shared by a small number of their company.  “It’s a long drop down,” pointed out one miner.

Thorin shook his head, adamant. “He can handle it. Right, lad?”

The encouraging hand upon his shoulder did nothing to spur Fili’s desire to rebel.  He had never been particularly good as denying his uncle anything, always eager to please and prove himself worthy of the honor of being his heir.  And yet as a gentle push guided him closer to the edge, every bone in his body screamed _no_.  He was frozen, standing at the ledge and looking down into the endless darkness.  He stood there for Aule knows how long before a miner cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Not afraid, are you boy?”

“No!” Fili snapped back, ears reddening at the shame of it all.  Still he found himself unable to move forward, or even think of preparing his climbing equipment. After a while the miners got antsy, mumbling to themselves and furthering Fili’s shame.

Thorin broke the silence, “Move on.”

“But the sword-“

“He’ll have to retrieve it when he’s good and ready,” his uncle continued, leveling Fili with a stare that was neither accusing nor disappointed, yet worsened his shame all the same.

With one last glance at his lost possession, Fili turned his back on the drop and didn’t look back.  “Aye, sir.  I will.”

_He would_.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I’m not afraid of heights.”

Thorin looked up from his meal and arched a brow at his nephew, “I never said you were.”

“You were thinking it,” Fili sulked into his bowl.  He found himself completely without an appetite, a strange enough occurrence for a dwarf even justified by the day’s events.  “You all were.”

Thorin took a deep breath, as if assessing the situation, and sat up in his chair with his full attention on Fili.  “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid-“

Fili cut him off before he could finish, “I’m a dwarf.”

Amusement prickled Thorin’s face, “Aye.”

“And a son of Durin.”

“Aye, that too.”

“So stone runs through my veins.”

Thorin’s expression softened and he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table between them, “Fearing something makes you no less a dwarf.  We all fear something, Fili.”

The blonde was unconvinced, “Even you?”

“Aye, even I,” Thorin grinned,  “I fear losing my fool nephew to one of his own childish follies.  Don’t think I don’t hear about your escapades in the commons.  One day one of your own games is going to come round and kick you in the rear.” Fili only scoffed, so Thorin continued in a more serious tone, “It’s not what we fear, lad.  It’s how we conquer that fear.  Now finish your supper before I start taking a worry to your health.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hours later found Fili overlooking the same crevice he’d crossed with his uncle and the miners, but alone.  A long flaxen rope hung in loops over his shoulder, anchors and equipment ladening him down.  Thorin’s words rang clear in his mind, _it’s how we conquer that fear_ , and as he stood at the edge of the gaping cliff, Fili swore under his breath not to allow fear to claim him.

The sword still rested on the ledge thirty feet below, so Fili carefully moved as close to it as he could manage and set up the main anchor and rope just as his uncle had taught him to.  After harnessing himself in he gave the anchor a good tug to test its strength.  It held.

It took far longer than he’d like to admit to gather the courage to take that first step over the ledge and start his way down, but once he was sure of his anchoring progress became swifter.

So long as he didn’t look down, of course.

He was what he judged to be nearly halfway down to the outcrop when he paused, releasing the tail end of his rope to wipe the nervous sweat from his eyes.  Fate would have it that just as his hand touched his face, his footing slipped and he began to fall.  Though he grabbed at the rope the attempt was already futile, his hold lost and the harness no more useful to him than the discarded weapon he’d come to reclaim.

Down he went, hitting the solid rock of the outcrop and hearing the snap of breaking bones before his body slipped off that edge as well.  So further he fell, the next collision with rock rendering him unconscious.

And that is how this story should have ended, with the death of a young dwarven prince, barely fully grown.  Had it been so his name would have joined the ranks of his mother, unborn sibling, and no small handful of other dwarves whose lives had been lost in the deep dark trenches underground.  As it was, fate had another plan entirely for Fili, as he woke to find himself very much alive- and very much in pain.

The first thing he noticed was the fact that he wasn’t on hard ground, but rather what seemed to be a collection of blankets.  The second was that when he tried to sit up, all he succeeded in doing was causing himself a great deal of pain.

The third was that he wasn’t alone.

It was dark, far too dark for his eyes to adjust to easily, but the sound of movement nearby was all the knowledge he needed.  “Hello?” the blonde croaked out when he found his voice.

The movement stopped and everything fell quiet.  Fili was just beginning to think he had imagined it in some pain-induced delirium when it picked back up, coming closer until the young dwarf was sure if he were to reach out with his hand he’d touch whoever –or whatever- it was.  A match was lit and the room erupted into light.  At first Fili flinched away from the sudden brightness, but his eyes adjusted quickly and he looked into the face of his rescuer.

It was a young dwarf, certainly no older than Fili, with long messy brown hair and a smooth chin.  He seemed to be inspecting Fili with equal curiosity, as he held out the match to illuminate the injured dwarf and made no other move until it had gone out against his calloused and dirty fingertips.  With a displeased huff he scrambled away, finding a lantern and striking a match into it so that the whole room filled with light.

Fili could see now that he was laying in the midst of some kind of trove; odd trinkets, tools, and clothing surrounding his bed of old, worn blankets.  The young dwarf, only a boy he could see now, slunk back to his side, body posture weary but eyes full of curiosity.

Odd. If Fili didn’t know any better he would have compared the youth to Thorin.  They certainly shared many of the same features.

“Who are you?” He tried, but the boy only pulled back his lips to show his teeth and drew back a step.  After staring wearily at Fili for a moment, his curiosity got the better of him and he moved close once more.  “Do you have a name?” Fili tried again, but his words were met with only another distrustful grimace.  “Do you even understand the common tongue?  Aglâb zu.”  Either even the mother tongue of the dwarves was foreign to this youth, or he simply chose to ignore Fili’s press for answers, choosing instead to stare him down.

It was rather intimidating, if Fili were being honest, and when he shifted uncomfortably he sent the boy into a fright that had him dropping the lantern and disappearing into the darkness beyond its reach.  Fili waited, but there was no sound; the boy was gone.

_He’s feral_ , he thought to himself, both shocked and horrified.  To think that such a young dwarf was living in these depths, alone and right under their noses.  And how did he survive, there was certainly no opportunity for anything edible to grow this far from light and sky, and living things were scarce.  Was his food, like the trinkets and articles that lined this den, stolen goods from the civilization above their heads?  Or was someone tending to him, like a wild animal?  There were many questions, and no one to answer them.

Seeing as nothing could be done to satiate his building curiosity, and the feral child seemed long gone to the darkness, Fili was left with little choice but to slip back into sleep- a reprieve from the pain of his injured back that he welcomed greatly.


End file.
